by Paty Jager
“I would adore a child with you. Just not now.” She wanted to be a wife and mother. But that was a dream she’d shoved out of her mind to concentrate on being a doctor. She wasn’t going to waste the years of schooling now. Not when she was so close to proving to everyone she could be a doctor. A good one.
“Then don’t touch me like you’re doing now. I can’t promise I won’t get other ideas.” Clay captured her hands with one hand and ran the other up her leg and under her nightdress. An eyebrow arched when his calloused hand cupped her naked hip.
“No drawers?”
“No.”
He growled and stood, sliding her to her feet in front of him. “You aren’t making this easy.”
“I’m sorry. But I don’t see why we can’t enjoy one another.” Her face heated. “Like in the train.”
“You two getting up today?” Hank called.
“Yeah.” Clay brushed by her, groping for the chair and his clothes. “That’s why. Until Hank is back at the cabin, we’re only sleeping in this bed.”
She grabbed the shirt he’d slid his arms in, stopping his actions. “What else is bothering you?”
“Nothing.” Clay tugged the shirt from her hands and continued dressing.
Something bothered him. His dismissive tone, clenching jaw, and drawn features gave him away. Did he still think she didn’t believe he’d make a good father?
Rachel stepped around him and dressed. Fine. She’d tell Hank about the man following them, and then borrow the wagon to return to Sumpter and inquire about a house. Clay stalked out of the room before she’d finished dressing. She entered the kitchen and found Hank standing at the stove cooking eggs.
“Let me help you.” She grabbed the apron on a hook by the stove and ducked her head into the neck strap. She tied the strings behind her back and set about putting plates on the table.
“Where’s Clay?” Rachel poured coffee in the cups on the table.
“Said he needed to go for a walk.”
She stopped and faced him. “Is that a good idea?” Fear knotted her insides.
“He knows his way around these woods.”
“But you don’t know.” She grasped his arm and sat, drawing him into a chair beside her.
Hank’s eyes, the same brown as Clay’s, peered into hers. “Don’t know what?”
“In Meacham, we left the train and took a walk. A man stared at us and followed us back to the train. While we were eating in the buffet car, he poked his head in. His expression.” She shuddered. “Then I saw him in Baker City. When you and Clay went after the baggage. He peered in the window and laughed. He’s unstable and he’s following us. Clay, I think. The man stared at Clay like he knew him.”
Fear for Clay constricted her chest. “He shouldn’t be left alone until we find this man.”
Hank stared at her. “How do you know he isn’t following you?”
“No one is following me. There’s no reason.” Unless her father had someone following her to make sure she was safe? She shook her head. The man had shown unstable actions. She shivered at the memory of his beady eyes and deranged laugh.
“What does he look like?” Hank sat back, assessing her.
“He’s my height, shaggy brown hair and beard, skinny, and he limps on his right leg.”
The door opened and Clay walked in. Relief shot her to her feet and across the floor. She wrapped her arms around him. He smelled of fresh air and musky male.
“What’s this?” He returned the hug. “I wasn’t gone that long.”
“Breakfast is ready,” Hank said.
Rachel walked back to the table and took her seat.
Clay crossed the room and sat down next to her.
“Eggs at six and biscuits at twelve,” she said, picking up her cup for a sip of coffee.
“Rachel tells me there’s a man following you.”
She spit the coffee onto her plate and glared at Hank. She’d told him in confidence.
“Yeah, she described him to me at Meacham.” Clay patted her back. “Are you all right?”
“She saw him in Baker City.”
Clay stopped patting her and slid his hand to the back of her neck. His cool fingers massaged her tense muscles.
“Why didn’t you tell me you saw him?”
The disappointment in his voice cooled the heat his hand caused. “I didn’t want you charging off to find him.”
He cupped her cheek. “But I can’t protect you if I don’t know what I’m up against.”
She wanted to revel in Clay’s touch and forget about the mystery man, but they had to find out who he was and what he wanted.
“I’m not worried about me. You’re the one he glares at and watches intently.” She shivered, remembering the way the man had stared at Clay in the buffet car. Pure hatred had burned in the man’s small eyes.
“If he’s around here the men will see him and tell us.” Hank’s easy dismissal angered her.
“There are acres and acres of forest he can hide in.” She scowled at Hank and stared at Clay.
“And that’s why you don’t go outside this house without Hank or me with you.” Clay dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed.
“I didn’t come here to be a prisoner.” She shrugged his hand off. “I was that in Salem.” Here she planned to start a fresh new life. One with a challenging career.
“You won’t be a prisoner. You can come and go as you like, just not alone.” Clay reached out to her, but she moved from his touch.
“Now you sound like my father, telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m a grown woman, in case you haven’t noticed, with a degree to practice medicine. I believe if I can make decisions about other people’s health I can make decisions about my own well-being.”
Clay ran a hand over his face. Tarnation, she was being difficult.
“I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself, but you’re in a strange place. When you know your surroundings, then I’ll feel better about you going out alone. People who aren’t used to these woods get lost easy.”
“Eat,” Hank said. “Food’s getting cold, and I have work to do.”
The edge of irritation in Hank’s voice and the sharp scrape of a chair vibrating the floor spoke volumes. His brother was not happy with the discourse brought by their arrival.
Clay fumbled on the table for his fork. His walk had done little to clear his mind. He wanted Rachel to stay and become his wife more than anything he’d ever wanted, but her assertion this was just another prison lingered. That and her adamant stand on not getting with child worried him. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to marry and settle down—especially with him.
Utensils scraped plates and dishes clanked as they ate in silence. The dismal atmosphere seeped into his skin. He’d come home, but so far the elation he’d hoped for had yet to surface. Waking with Rachel in his arms had brought joy. He wished he could have shown her how deep his affections ran for her. But her insistence to have her doctor bag had dampened his desire. He still wanted her, but now worried she may already be with child from their passionate night on the train. What would she do if that had happened?
“I’d like to borrow the wagon and go to Sumpter to look for a place to set up my practice.”
Rachel’s comment thrown into the awkward silence stunned him. Why did she need to go to town already? Did she already regretting traveling here? It hurt to think she hadn’t asked him to take her.
Hank cleared his throat. “I have to unload the supplies, and then we need the wagon to haul lumber for repairs.”
“Then I’ll take a buggy.”
The finality of her words brought a smile to Clay’s lips.
The chair across the table from him scraped the floor. “We don’t have a buggy,” Hank said.
“Oh.”
Rachel’s breathy despair tugged at Clay. He shoved his plate to the middle of the table. “We can ride horses to Sumpter.” He couldn’t wait to get on a horse.
“That’
s a bad idea,” Hank said as dishes clattered on the drain board.
Clay stood. He wouldn’t be a prisoner any more than Rachel. “We’ll be fine. We know there’s someone watching. Rachel will keep an eye out, and I’ll be alert.”
Rachel placed her hand on his arm. “I’ve never ridden a horse,” she said so soft he almost didn’t catch her words.
A city girl. They walked or rode a buggy where they wanted to go.
“We still have that old black nag?” he asked Hank.
“Yes, but she’d never be able to outrun anything on that old mare.”
“She won’t have to outrun anything, just feel comfortable.” Clay walked to the door. “Is the mare here or at the cabin?”
“The cabin.”
The disbelief in Hank’s voice didn’t dampen Clay’s excitement at riding. Dishes clanked. He heard Rachel’s small feet scurrying around the room.
“I’ll go get the horse. You clean up the meal and be dressed to ride in an hour.” Clay grabbed the door latch.
“You aren’t going by yourself.”
Rachel’s reprimand tickled him. It proved she cared more than she let on.
He swung toward the sound of her voice. “I’ll see if there’s a spare man at the mill.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Her tone had softened.
Hank’s rough hand grabbed his and pulled the door open. “I have work to do.” His body brushed Clay’s as he walked out the door.
Rachel’s arms wrapped around Clay. “Be careful.”
Clay drew her into an embrace and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll take someone with me and be back in an hour. Put on whatever will work to straddle a horse. We don’t have any side saddles.”
“It wouldn’t matter, I don’t know how to ride that way either.”
Her nervous giggle pierced his heart deeper and he hugged her close. “I know this is different than what you’re used to. I wouldn’t blame you if you ordered me to take you back to the train.”
She pulled back. “I’ve faced worse challenges than living in a rural community. And if you think this is all it would take to make me leave you…” She wound her fingers in his hair and tugged his head down. “Then you aren’t paying attention.”
She pressed her velvety soft lips to his. He didn’t need any more invitation. He took over the kiss, possessing her lips and delving into her heat. His hands skimmed up and down her body, melding her to him, pressing her soft breasts against his chest and cupping her backside.
A sharp whistle pierced the air. He jerked. Why did it sound familiar and surge anger?
“What’s wrong?”
Rachel’s dreamy voice slipped him back into the haze of need.
“Nothing. I better go, or we won’t get to Sumpter today.” He kissed her quickly on the lips and backed away, feeling the door jamb with one hand.
Outside, the cool morning air calmed his heated body and shot his thoughts to the whistle. He knew of only one person who gave that whistle. A man he’d hoped to run into for the last ten months.
Chapter 29
Rachel hurried through straightening the kitchen. In the bedroom, she found a split skirt that must have belonged to Aileen. Though loose around the waist and too long, it would be more suited to riding than anything she owned. She rolled the skirt’s waistband and tied a cloth belt around her waist to hold the garment up and make it short enough she didn’t step on it when she walked.
Dressed, she set to work applying makeup. She wanted to make a good impression on the people in Sumpter. It could mean the difference between her practice growing or floundering. She mixed the powder and the lard and noted her supplies getting low. At the mill she wouldn’t need to conceal the scar if she wore her bonnet whenever she went outside. If they made many trips to town, she’d need to order more powder and purchase more lard. At home, the drug store owner knew the reason for her purchase and kept a supply on hand. What would the store clerk here think when she ordered powdered makeup that prostitutes and actresses used?
“Are you ready?” Clay called.
Rachel patted the makeup on the side of her face and stepped to the hallway. “Almost. Have a cup of coffee.”
Clay stood in the doorway to the hall. “Need any help?” His eyebrow arched.
“No. I just have to put my hair up.” She pivoted back into the washroom, applied one more layer of powder and brushed out her hair, pulling it up on the sides with bone combs and twisting her hair into a bun at the back of her head. She nodded at her reflection and crossed to the bedroom to retrieve her hat and gloves.
Clay sat in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee, a dusty battered hat on his knee.
“I’m ready to go to town but not so sure I’m ready to ride a horse.” As a girl she’d dreamed of owning a horse, but after the accident her mother wouldn’t hear of it.
He stood and grinned, placing the ugly hat on his head. “The horse I’m putting you on couldn’t toss you on the ground if her life depended on it. Just sit in the saddle and let her follow me.”
“And how do you know if your horse is going the right way?” She walked to the door and he followed.
“Because he’s traveled the route a time or two.” Clay caught her arm, drawing her near. He sniffed and put a hand on her chin. “You ready to impress the good people of Sumpter?”
“Other than the riding skirt I borrowed of Aileen’s which is too big, yes, I believe I’m ready.”
Clay put his hands around her waist, running his fingers over the rolled up material and down the length of the ties. “We’ll have to see if the store has any ready-made riding skirts.” His hands roamed up her sides. “You know, Myrle might have one, too. She’s a little shorter than you, but closer to your waist size.”
Before she could protest, his face descended and their brims banged together. Her hair pulled from the hatpins. His hat tipped back on his head.
“We’ll have to figure out how to avoid that.” He shoved his hat back in place and tugged on her hand, heading out the door.
She fought a bubble of laughter at the sight of the sad looking black horse standing beside a powerfully built sorrel gelding.
“Are you sure she won’t die with me on her back? She can barely hold herself up.” Rachel walked up to the horse and petted her nose. The mare raised her head and Rachel caught a spark in the animal’s eye. “Does she have a name?”
Clay stood beside her. “Our mother called her Beauty.”
No wonder the men kept a horse no longer of use to them. She’d been their mother’s. Her throat became scratchy with emotion. She cleared it and asked, “That would make her how old?”
Clay ran a hand down the old mare’s neck and remembered the day his father brought the mare home for his mother. Now, Beauty didn’t hold her feed well in the winter but was still in pretty sound shape. No one had cared to ride her after their mother died, but no one had the heart to sell her either.
“She was in her prime when… She’s over twenty.”
“And been well taken care of.” Rachel squeezed his arm. “Tell me what to do to mount. I know my foot goes…”
Clay placed his hands on Rachel’s waist and lifted her onto the horse.
“Thank you, but that doesn’t teach me how to get on by myself.”
Rachel pried his hands from her waist. Before he could discern what she was up to, her body fell into his arms.
“Now,” she said, her breath coming in shallow pants as she pushed out of his arms and stood on her own, “show me the correct way to mount.”
He grinned and shook his head. Independent. The quality he loved most about her.
“Place your left foot in the stirrup.” He held out the stirrup and helped guide her foot in. “Grab the horn with your left hand and put your right hand on the back of the saddle.” He moved behind her and grasped her waist again. “Use the foot on the ground to push off, and pull your body up so you’re standing in the stirrup.” He held her as she pushed off. “M
ove the right hand to the horn and swing your right leg over the horse’s rump.”
“I did it!”
Her childlike exclamation expanded his chest with pride that he’d given her the experience. He adored her enthusiasm and didn’t doubt her face beamed.
“Yep, you now know how to get on your horse.” He squeezed her thigh and handed her the reins. “Keep these loose enough you aren’t pulling on her mouth.”
“Do I need to hold them any particular way?”
“Whatever’s comfortable and works.”
Clay walked to his horse. The gelding had remembered him, walking up to him when he called. They’d been together since he turned fifteen. He mounted and breathed in piney mountain air and the dusty muted scent of horse. He’d missed the smells, the people, and the sense of belonging the past four months. He hoped the woman next to him learned to love the area as much as he did.
“Ready?” He reined the horse toward the jingle of sleigh bells barely audible above the pounding of the stamps.
“Yes. Do I hear bells?”
The hollow clomp of her horse followed beside him. “After the accident, Aileen strung bells off the walking bridge over the creek so I could find the bridge when I went out by myself.” He walked his horse through the creek beside the jingling sound. The splashing of the horses and the growing thud of the stamps drowned out the bells.
“Aileen sounds like an intelligent woman. I’m anxious to meet her.”
“That’ll be a while. She and Ethan won’t be back for at least six months.” He missed his older brother, but was glad Ethan had found happiness.
The pounding of the stamps directed him to the road leading toward town.
“Do we follow this all the way?” Rachel called to him. “I have to admit I was busy staring at the scenery last night and didn’t notice if we took different roads.”
The old mare kept up a good pace. He waited until the pounding was muted before replying.
“There are a couple of side roads to other claims, but this is the main road. It’s only been here a year, just since we started building the stamp mill. We needed a way to haul in all the equipment and materials. Now the workers use it to come to work and the miners along this route use it to go to town.”